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, R b 



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From Council Fire to Caucus. 

'And I shall give thee the heathen for thine 
inheritance." 



Digitized by the Internet Archive 
in 2010 with funding from 
The Library of Congress 



http://www.archive.org/details/wegeraceasterchaOOrice 



Copyright 1884. 
hv T. C. KICK. 



A Chapter 

In 3 e career of Infant Packaehoag, writ lor all 
times, but for ye Bi-centennial in partic- 
ular, and I'espectfully dedicated to 



YE GOOD PEOPLE OF WOECESTER, 

_ T by a scion of ye original stock, 

"Thomas Y- Mi/7ner." 

l\yi(er of ^'Ye Snake Stori<^' "Philosophy in Bags.' 

"Ei'olntion,'" "M'with'.'" et(>r\ e$c^r:pr%^. 

'\ \ ■-' ' " w /I I 

cop.H,ht^OCT 15 1gS4j 

by T. c. RICE. ^^ '^ ^J^^y^ 



I 'e ivay to consider it. \^S^ 

Ye author of ye rambling diseonrse makes no pieteii- 
tion here to historical accuracy, nor yet does he purpose 
to mislead by erroneous statements or false coloring. 

But he proposes to leave ye beaten paths of recor- 
ded incidents, and to summon memory to his aid. as also, 
ye unwrit legends of ye ancient people of ye town, hoping 
thereby to instruct ye young men and ^Yomen. and to 
amuse ye eld, 

And, so far as ye evil tendencies of our common nature 
may be held in abeyance, he will avoid any allusion to 
such matters or subjects as indiscreet and vicious per- 
sons have in all times sought to convert to scandal, to ye 
disgust of ye wise, ye contempt of ye strong and ye cruel 
detriment of ye weak. 

In an undertaking like this, ye author conceives it to be 
rmpracticable to string events, or past life pictures, upon 
a thread of discourse as may be done in histor^^ or in 
romance, with a nice attention to uniformity and natural 
sequence, where like moulded beads, each incident is the 
counterpart, or in some degree the fellow of every other, 
but he is constrained to fashion it more like a string of 
wampum, where atoms of unequal proportions, models 
perhaps of incongruity, nestle by each other in unhappy 
heterogene. 

In history or in romance it is ye method of ye authors 
to hinge each event or circumstance upon one or all pre- 
ceding, and to concentrate, forces at some important ter- 
minus, making each and all subservient to some grand 
culmination. Notably in our owai history it is ye aim to 
build upon a foundation of semi l^arbaric type, a super- 
structure of ye highest form of goverment and civiliza- 
tion, through a process tenacious of sequence and sym 
etry. 



InvocaUon. 

Teacli me niv Muse some other way 

Than Caleb's eye could see. 

And all beyond what Caleb knows. 

YoucliSc.fe Oh Muse to me. 



Ye Beginning. 



Ten scores of years haye passed away 
Sinee as the homely records say. 

Sans ceremonies compact. 

Cro^yn leaye. or legislatiye act. 

Some farmers, British by descent, 

On weal of neighborhood intent. 

In canclaye met. shirtsleeyed and bro^yn. 

By fiat improvised a town.* 



I count my fingers o"er and o'er 

And try to realize ten score. 

But as the mist}^ cj'cles fiy 

I see Time's riyer running dry 

Fiye decades back, where all to me 

. Kesolyes into blank mystery, — 

And 3^et I know that prior to then 

Old Packachoao- reared famous men. 



*Tlie inci.k'iit of insi, was the bestowal of the ]u-e.seiit name upon the 
plantation by order of the general court, hut as \et there was no per- 
m.inent settlement. 

The settlement soon following converted the eight mile tr:te' rr 
tovrn<?hip. into an actual town. 



Some qiieer old linlks were floatiiig round 

And brave men many a score were found; 

Fair maidens, tliey are everywhere. 

And deacons fat and deacons spare. 

L. "D's and M. D's debonair. 

One dealt out mercury and jalap. 

One scolded about scolding Trollope" 

And called her anything but fair. 

Among the queers or cranks was Grimes.* 

The ready wit. w4th ready rhymes. 

On Back Street stood a tavern then,* 

A chapel made for praying men. 

And later resonant with clamor 

Of babies mouthing murray's grammai'. 

The tavern hall, bar room we call it. 

Had drained- as usual Grimes' wallet. 



And yet Old Grimes was fain to sip 

A nightcap of the foaming flip. 
The mu^ was mixed, but not a taste 



*"Trollopo" Madame Trollope on l:cr return to EiiglaiKl, by her ridi- 
cule and her sarcastic description oftlie men and nianners oi' America 
brought upon lier name the intensest liatred oftlie ueople. The Avorsf 
a mother could sa.y to a vicious or mischievous daughter was,— "You 
good for nothing Trollope." 

*Grimes was born in the towji of Hubbardston, in the middle of 
the eighteenth century. He was well educated for the times, was 
witty, eccentric, bold and mischievous. His faculty for r^adv rhvm- 
ing was rarely equalled, an<l living at a time when all societv met in 
tavern halls, and being willial forever on tlie move, he becanie widely 
if not enviably known. 

*Until near 1840 Summer Street was imiversullv termed Back street. 
The tavern that was, was built "or a Unitarian cluircli, it became in 
time a tavern and has been for forty or more -sears a School-house. 



The host on such as Giimes would waste, 

Except the guest his thought would rally 

And earn it by some witty sally. 

The candle flickering in its stand 

Glared on an elm tree close at hand.* 



Upon the elm with creak and whine 

Swung Summer Street's old tavern sign. 

The thirst that raged in Grime's Breast 

Roused the old rhymster "to his best. 

•^On yonder tree methinks I see 

A sign among the leaves, 

And this that was a house of prayer 

Is now a den of thieves." 



What Grimes knew not he had forgot. 

The rhymster knew each storied spot 

From Bunker's hill to Jasper's spring: 

Knew each by name who fired a shot 

On Concord plain, could witness bring 

Himself had fought five battle fields; 

Pulaski knew and Lafayette. 

He saw Burgoyne, Cornwallis yield; 

Had clicked with Put and Ethan bold; 

King Phillip and old Uncas knew; 

Of Marion and of Lee he told. 

And showed the shot that Warren slew. 

And, since the penalty was off, 



•=Tiie Elm tree where the tavern sign hung dissapeared some forty 
years ago. 



He knew the hiding place of Goife, 



He fought the Mohawks: toe to toe 
Had tussled with their burlj^ chief. 
Till, foiling Brant, with dexterous blow - 
He whipped his scalp, — thing past belief.— 

Mad Anthony, companion boon. 

Through night with him caroused till noon. 

Or true or false, full well he knew 

To give to narrative that specious glow, 

Makes bogus tales like l)Ogus money go. 

We hear our bald, white l)earded sires, 

Our Clrandames in the chimney corner; 

Our Aunts by culinary fires 

Talk of a Grimes we think a myth. 

As much so as that ^'Johnny Horner." 

But Grimes was yet a real bard, 

A laughing fount of witty pith. 

A living, walking entity. 

That kept on cpii vive. constant guard, 

By pranks a whole community. 



His boyant nature most abhored 

That blank vacuit}' of soul 

Where glad hilarity was poured. 

As if on an inverted bowl, 

i^ndonly that his fellow men 

Could scarce appreciate a jest. 

He had l>een sainted now. and then. 



For being wisest, holiest, best — 

For at a prayer he was an fait, 

And though at feast convivial, 

None needy went from him away 

With alms gift mean or trivial. 



He knew his rosary full well. 

And all his blessed beads could tell; 

A theologian ingrain. 

His churchly scutcheon knew no staiii: 

He swore by every faith and creed — 

While eschewing dogmatic bickering — 

And followed every shepherd's lead 

From Cotton Mather down to Pickering.* 

I like the style of that old man, 

Denouncing as of coui'se his evil 

Which mostly came of cup and can, 

Twas rum with him that raised the devil. 

Whate'er you say, whate'er you think. 

Be sure his name will live long after 

Both yours and mine have leaj^t the brink 

And disappeared in the hereafter. 

Those sallies of the rhymster's wit. 

The repartee that set men smiling, 

Would antidote dyspepsia's fit. 



*Elder Pickering was among the first Methodist revivalists to visit 
Worcester. He held services in the Town Ha]], about the year 18S8. 



And be to woe a charm beguiling, 

While lisping children learn to quote, 

And older lads to quite adore him, 

The man who "wore the long blue coat," 

The coat "all buttoned down before" him. 



For he who wakes the torpid blood 

And sends it tingling through its courses. 

Works out a miracle of good 

By stirring up our latent forces. 

What e'er we think, what e'er we say. 

Who nurses humor to the letter, 

And gives to happy thoughts their sway. 

May " see" four score and " go ten better." 

The men of that day were polite, 

But not a whit cosmopolite;* 

They knew no friends beyond the sea, 

The Yank had no affinity. 

Turn Europe in, or turn her out. 

There stood John Bull, or Sourkrout; 

The one they hated beyond measure, 

The one disliked in silent leisvire. 



The one respected flag nor cargo 

And brought about that curs't embargo; 

The one, to multiply our harms 



*Cosmop()lite,— A great abuse of the Queen's English, but vastly 
convenient at this time. 



Had sold to England men and arms, 

And — worst of all — had left the rabble 

In politics and faith to dabble; 

To make the new confederation 

No more a homogeneous Nation. 

They loved the Turk — when wide asunder— 

They loved him for his blood and thunder, 

They loved Napoleon — afar — 

They loved the scorpion of war. 

As when a wolf has tasted gore 

The burning gullet cries for more, 

The Eevolution served to whet 

An appetite not sated yet. 

Not sated, till at sixty six 

Glory had wallow^ed in the styx. 

They could forgive, but ne'er forgot 

How France misused the Huguenot. 

Through whim, or sentiment alone 

They hated aliens, flesh and bone; 

They hated Spain, they knew not why; 

The Holy See was Italy, 

And therefore much the lowest nation 

Was Italy in degradation. 

A drunken Infidel was Peter, 

Nor were the Czar's descendants better. 

In great degree those men were read. 

And yet the crojD they harvested 

Of knowledge, was the less profound. 

Because doctrinally, so sound, 

They tabooed Shakespear. Kepler. Bacon, 



10 



Called romance lies, science mistaken. 

And ranked among the friends of hell, 

Yoltair and Paine the Infidel. 



So much for public sentiment 

To sway a mind against its bent, 

To urge a soul ag^ainst its reason — 

To doubt the Holy writ was treason; 

Was treason to the common faith, 

That I'oused the ruling churchmen's wrath. 

Till doubting* Thomas g^a^e consent 

And shouted for the mystic wi^aith. 

Five decades back I mind me well 

Of hearing the ungodly tell 
Of '^Tom Paine tlie Infidel"— . 



They had the law but rarely used it. 

It was their son's sons that abused it. 

They served not crime as we in cities. 

But more with vigilence committees. 

As many a roving scamp might tell 

Remembering' where the whiplash felL 

Even Grimes himself, the poet, seer, 

For vagabondage lost an ear.* 



With what a high despotic hand 

*Read secojirtJine on page, fiends of Hell. 

*TIie farmers of Holden, in one of these quiekly fnipro\'::std leijce- 
post trials, declarerl liini forfeited an ear,, ami ,sans ceremony elippetl 
It for him> 



11 



Doth custom rule when in command; 

Why ! half a centiiiy ago 

The parson loved his bitters so, 

No light his flaming back log shed 

That glared not on a loggerhead: 

A loggerhead all sparkling hot. 

And rum and home brewed beer in pot, 

With egg in batter sacahrine 

To work the winter brew devine.* 



And as the pastor made his call. 

His semi- occasional pastoral. 

The lady who most visits got 

Was she who brewed the finest pot. 

How strangely now 'twould seem to see 

Her ofter anything but tea. 

So fickle, custom, right or wrong. 

No phase can hold the sceptre long. 

But now I choose to turn again 

To local scenes apart from men. 

'Long Jo Bill Eoad I saunter on 

Toward the tavern, Rising Sun* 

There many an old bird had his rollick. 

And young bucks at late hours would frolic. 

Now by Mill brook my feet meander. 

My boyish eyes knew nothing grander. 

c^Tive Brew— The flip of our fathers. Old Grimes was said, perhaps er 
roneously, to . be the inventor of the true yankee flip which (iiffers 
vastly, and favorably to itself, from the English beverage of that name 

*The Rising Sun Tavern at Tatnuck, displayed its sign, a rising Sun„ 
as late as 1842. 



12 



Those sturdy elms, those willow trees* 

That rustled in the summer breeze 

Anent the Arch, that winding stream, 

— ^It was not rife then with polution, 

No puzzle had we for solution* — 

I saw its rippling waters gleam 

Neath shadowy oaks, where now I guess 

On high brick walls you read S. S,* 

Nor ever dream that all around 

Was gentrys' private pleasure ground. 

Where now two thousand men by day 

Spin iron threads, a sweet grove lay,* 

A basin sparkled in the light, 

A waterfall was dancing bright, 

Impatient of the long delay 

From North Pond by its tortuous way, 

There in that brimming aqueous dish 

We school boys paddled with the fish. 

We paddled, or with stealthy tread. 
An alder stick and linen thread, 
A crooked pin hook curved exact, 
A grasshopper to make imjDact 
Upon the surface of the cool 



*Tho8e Weeping Willow trees grew upon an island in the streaiu 
above tlie arch and east of the Salsbury Mansion. 

*No puzzle had we for Bolution, like the sewer problem. 

*S. S. Where the great business blocks of Salsbury's stand on Union 
Street, were the grove and gardens of the Wheeler and Bangs estates. 

*The works of Washburn and Moen, Grove Street, cover the site of 
the "old Grove" and its little original pond, then a well patronized 
bathing place. 



13 



Grass hidden, loitering, dreamy pool. 

We cast, with most consummate tact, 

As winding' in and winding out 

The swirl gave token of a trout. 

From bog to bog for church I leapt. 
Where frogs their safe siestas kept 

To wake into nocturnal bliss 

And make a howling wilderness. 

On iron rails see commerce run 

With every jjroduct neath the Sun. 

There where I strode through mud and smurcli 

On stony flags I march to church. 

That brave old church that reared its head 

When strictest Orthodoxy said 

For Quakers and for Baptists too. 

The fires of Hell were burning blue,* 

Defiant reared its four horned crest,*_ 

Its low tower topping all the rest. 

Fernent the church the Training Ground, 

With naught enclosed except the Pound. 

By what we term the Fair Grounds 
Was mead and forest all around. 
On what was then the Lincohi grange 



*Tlie fires of HeU etc.,— See history for wrangles, or at least lieateti 
discussions, between Dr. Austin and tlie new Baptist preaclier. 

*Tlie first Baptist church was burned upon the site of tlie present 
one at Salem Square, and its belfry was in its day adorned with four 
horns. 



14 



A herd of red deer used to range; 

A flock of wild geese used to swing 

Upon the waters of the spring, 

And where those flowers with laughing eyes 

Reflect the glory of our skies, 

A gorgeous floral Paradise, 

Was treacherous swamp, where step amiss 

Led to a bottomless abyss. 



Where floral gems of every hue. 

With sombre pines of arctic birth 

Are mirrored from the liquid blue. 

We see again the new made Earth — 

And through the rosy Summer hours 

Where reappears the spouting Lynde.* 

We sit again by Eden's bowers. 

As if our Mother had not sinned. 



But now must I with nimble tread 

Glide o'er the pathway of the dead 

Must "show mj hand," or in a trice 

Must throw this box of antique dice. 

Or else the living men who know 

The truths that here I fain would show. 

Will hail me from that next condition 

To come and take their deposition. 



*The Siiouting Lj ude,— The waters of the great fomitiiin in Elm Park 
are derived from T^vntle brook, in Leicester. 



15 



What music at the close of day 

When o'er the hamlet quiet crept; 

— No sonnd, save whistle far away, 

The soft note of the whippoorwill, 

Or w^here the crickets vespers kept, 

That made the silence seem more still. - 

To hear the boatman's trumpet bray, 

Announcing to the village ears 

Some new arrival at the piers; 

Some gre:ot canal boat swinging in"^ 

To Bigelow's or Jackson's bin, 

Or at the lower docks to moor, 

The basin at the Iron store. 



Hie O 1 That Tally ho ! 

I hear the red faced Jehu blow, 

As rattling in from Tatnuck plains 

Rides Genery Twichell at the reins, 

Through mud and slush, with six in hand. 

How audibly the wheels can talk* 

To urge the wheelers to their work. 

As flies the drivers tingling wand 

A fractious leaders ear to spoil,* 



*Some great canal boat, &c. The upper-central and iOY/cr basins 
were at Central, Bridge and Front Streets,— Jackson's, BigcJow's and 
I'ratt's.— The two former dealt chiefly in grain, and the latter ua now, 
in iron. 

M3ld Drivers would declare they could recognize a team T/agon, or 
coach by the "talk of the wheels long before it hove in sight. They re- 
ferred to the shuck. 

* A fractious leader s ear to spoil.— The old time drivers conhidered 
one expert who could pick atiy from a leadtu-"s ear at the en-l of a til- 
teen foot lash. 



16 



Eound lip to Bonney's Tavern come* 

The panting horses all a-foam 

And end their hour of toil. 



From Shrewsbury hills I hear a groan 

Roll like the far spant thunder's moan,* 

And now along the turnpike way, 

Rattling, rumbling on its way; 

Now rolling up in echoes shi-ill 

Along, and over Millstone Hill, 

Till rallying at the Hermet's Dell,* 

I translate it as — "Fish to sell." 

No blast to wind was ever borne 

Like that of Israel's four foot horn.* 

Some summer days, in breach of rule. 

As truants we escaped from school, 

And by the shores of that old lake, 

Where Philip made the Nipnet's break 

Their plighted faith, and near and far 

Lift up the tomahawk of war,* 

Within the deep old chestnut wood 

As lordly we as gypsies stood. 



*Bo)niey's Taveni was the "Central" on the site of the Bay State. 

* Hermetage. *Israel Rice died in 1882, aged 96 years. Fifty yeaxs 
ago he was bringing flsh weekly from Boston in a one-horse wagon 
and heing a man of marked peculiarities, which he maintained nntil 
his death; he was tmiversally known. On a still day tiiat tish hoxn 
would announce his coming befoi-e he left the Shrewsbury hills. 

*Tradition said in years gone by, that upon the little plat under tjne 
brow of Wigwam Hill, and by the water. King Philip met the Xipnet 
braves in council, and persuaded them to dig up the hatchet. 



A7 



'Twas by Long Pond, for pity's sake 
Don't speak of it as then the Lake. 
It blots the reminiscence out. — 
How Wigwam echoed back the shout.* 

As paddhng through the glassy tide 

We hallooed from the Shrewsbury side. 

■But Oh ! the s^^ot that "took the cakes,'" 

It was the island known as Blake's. 



Such mysteries to boyish eyes; 

A cottage where was many a prize. 

As through the keyhole we might see 

The remnant of some revelry, 

And long necked bottles scattered round, 

Wheron some Frenchy stufi' was found; 

Heidsieck and such, Brown Stout, and Bass', 

For lack of keys we let it pass. 



Oh sweet old Lake, Oh grand old wood. 

Those dark bluffs where the wigwams stood, 

Those waters where the birch canoe 

Like arrow darted o'er the blue, 

Yon shady dells, where evening's bird 

Kept silent watch o'er sleeping herd,* 

Where by the noondaj^ twilight hid. 

Slept whijDpoorwill. and katydid. 



-Wigwam Hill. 

^Sleeping herd.— Deer and all other large game maintained their 
ground in and abotit the deep wooded dells upon the lake shore, long 
ilfter they had forsaken their tormer haunts for miles around. 



m 



That mass of crags on Wigwam Hill; 

How memory starts me with a thrill, 

As down the vista of the past 

I see the long dun shadows cast 

Of spruce and pine, see high in space 

The white head eag-le take his pla-ce. 

Or, breaking circle, plunge below, 

And rising shake the beaded snow. 



By wigwam door at shut of day 

I saw the little Redskin play, 

I heard the sad faced mother say — 

Perhaps to son, perhaps to self, 

Perhax^s to sire's wandering elf. 

In gutteral Nipnet dialect, 

"Oh Lack a day 1 Oh Lack a day ! 

No more of good may we expect." 

Anear a lithe, dark figure stood, 

Emerged from out the tangled wood; 

An idle bow was in his hand. 

The sweat stood where the wampum band 

Begirt his broad browm open brow; 

A listless glare was in his eye. 

While hanging at his belted thigh 

An empty bottle told of art 

That ruled within the white man's mart 

To lure him to his overthrow. 



The phantom of futurity, 



19- 



The spirit of a prophesy. 

Young wampum belted squaw on thee 

Thy dazed brave looked so ruefully; 

Oh Sun brown girl, Oh silent brave — 

Your name is still linked to the wave, 

But you have now, Avho were its king. 

Nor land, nor life, nor anything. 

Swing roimd again, Oh I Dial Time. 

For passing hours decades bring; 

Swing till your pointing fingers climb 

And count the scores ten times — Swing ! 

But Oh ! I cannot, cannot see, 

I cannot realize ten score 

And make a picture true to me, 

By counting decades o'er and o'er. 

I would not write a romance here 
In this my sire's two hundreth year, 

But soothly I may wander back 

By fancy's hght, or memory's track. 

By yonder bridge, that floating mass 

Of chestnut logs securely bound,* 

I saw a squaw, a Redskin pass 

How on the whiteman's work she frowned. 

Poor Sally Boston — ^long ago* 



*The floating bridge, eight Imiidred feet in length. 

*Saliy Boston,— A Grafton indian woman, veiy powerfu], strangely 
eccentric, prond and jealons of her rights, and a tavern terror when hi 
drink. As boys we viewed her with profovmdest awe. She lived to a 
groat ago and'died somewhere 1840. 



20 



You saw the honeysuckles blow. 

The May flowers peep from drifts of snow; 

You saw the blossomed chestnut spread 

Its golden fringes o'er your head, 

The cardinals bloom by the brook, 

The yellow daisy ope its eye 

And smile upon your changeful sky. 

Or on your half nude figure look. 



You saw the oak leaves coppered hue, 

The scarlet maples gleaming fire. 

The violets laughing in the dew. 

The hemlock's steepled cone aspire: 

You saw the sumach's purple spray. 

The lichens in the forest's gloom, 

And where the river makes its way 

The yellow freckled lillies bloom. 



Oh ! Sally Boston, when that hand 

Reft of its wood your dreamy land • 

And drove the wild duck from the lake, 

The deer from out his drowsy dell. 

You dreamed not that his lust would tak 

The very soil on which you dwell. 

In that new hunting ground I know 

You will forgive, you will forget. 

The scowl of scorn the robber set 

Upon your fierce, broad, sunny brow; 

The Nipnet is his ecpial now. 



21 



How many things of quaint and queer, 
Grow obsolete in three score years; 
If so in three, who thinks but ten 
Would make a different race of men- 
Here's what I saw with my own eye — 
You know ''I cannot tell a lie" — 
I tell it as my fellow men 
All saw it as I saw it then. 

Sal Boston marching through the aisle* 
Of Going's church, with tall black tile, 

A beaver hat upon her head — 

In sheer contempt the haughty scjuaw 

Glared fiercely upon all she saw — 

Her skirt was calico, and spread 

Upon her brawney shoulders lay 

An old black coat; a pipe of clay 

Between her teeth, and thus arrayed. 

She alone stood while Elder Going prayed. 

Do you remember Levi! not the Jew,* 

How like Callio2:)e he led his choir — 

Stoddard's Calliope, that ten times two * 

Horse power orchestra, so full of screams. 

It gave you colic pains and frightful dreanis; 

'Twould set the church ablaze with holy jGire. 



'The old men remember Tievi. 

•-Sally Boston marching throug-h the aisle.— I well remenioer the 
-.irectacle, and it was as I describe it. 

*The Calliope was invented and constructed in Worcester, about the 
year 1855 by a Mr. Stoddard, one of Worcester's then ingenious mecha- 
jilcs. 



22 



Do yon remember the clmrcli wrangle when* 
The sorts of sacred miTsic parted men ? 
The old men said it was " to be abhored 
To scrape a fiddle in the praise of God." 

Queer changes ! Thought is now so grand. 

It dares to criticise Divine command — 

At least the writ — and so audacious grown. 

They'l "halloo" yet to God, by telephone. 

No longer Scripture is with teachings fraught; 

They mould the plastic mass to suit the thought. 

Twixt the six thousand, ages intervene. 

And locate Eve, somew^here, point Pliocine. 

So mind has worked into a mortal muddle 

Where proven facts with aspirations caddie, 

Where gross eternals mingle with the rare. 

And make our Heaven here, or anywh'ere. 

So when the thought on tireless wing surveys 

The links that bind conditions to their ways. 

And rigid science designates a fault, 
Tiie startled churchmen turn a summersault. 



With wonder in that ancient day 

I saw the quarry masons lay 

The corner stone of that old shed 

Where ended the new railroad bed; 

That queer device, that newest notion. 

That should link Worcester to the ocean. 



*Do you lenioinbev the church wrangle? All the old men reniemher 
it. 



23 



It was fernent the Lincoln farms:. 
Just rearward of the old King's Arin^."^ 

It was the da waning of a day 

When steam and lightning should have sway 

But even then Sir Genery Twichell, 

With Tyler's message in his satchel. 

Astride of horse to Hartford rode 

Along the hilly turnpike road, 

And beat the steam cars by an hour. 

Men knew not of that subtler powder. 

That power which would wdth message flit 

To earth's end faster than twas writ. 



Acoustics since lias had its turn: 
Though science had its limit fixed. 
Yet proud assurance had to learn — 

How^ever it the data mixed, — 

That from the antipodes could come 

Articulation to a drum, 

In sounds as audible, and clear. 

As if in contact with the ear. 



Again I plume my dusky wing 
To scenes in retrospection bring. 



*Tlie enrly authorities say it is tlifficult to now locate tiie '"Kiiig's 
Arras," but a more recent writer fixes it at the north corner of Elm and 
Main Sts., Fifty years ago it was a prevalent notion that the location 
was just south of what is now Foster & Main, and a gentleman still 
living, well on toward ninely, one of Lincoln's cited authorities, says 
it Avas at the last named spot. It seems to have passed nut of sight 
and nut nf mind at the date of the Revolution. 



24 



Where Lincobi roadway runs to Kortli* 

I martial Little Billy forth,* 
Forth from his cave, where busy qiiill 

And busier mind his images fill. 
From musty archives sparkling clear, 
Old forms in polished guise appear. 

In that old square for Lincoln named. 

Where bars, and bolts, and stone walls tamed* 

The too free spirits of the times 

Again I see the good man Grimes. 

The office of the jester then. 

To cheer the hearts of better men. 

Whose onl}^ misdemeanor yet 

AVas that they could not pay a del)t. 

Through murky distance glancing back 

Along the vanished decades track, 

To learn w^ho from those prison bars 

Shook off the guiltless taint and scars. 

I see the features and the name 

Of more than one, whose rightful claim 

To man's respect, to woman's love. 

To peace below, to Heaven above, 

Through all the long succeeding jesiVH 

Unscathed, and questionless apj)ears.* 

■"•l.iuLMjhf ,■> roadway"— Lincoln Street. 

*"1 martial Little Billy foi-th"— Win. J^incoln, Esq.^ familiarly call- 
*'.d "Little Billy'" Historian of Worcester, owned tbe estate now in 
possession of P. L. Moon, and west of Mv. Moen's lociTst grove, on 
tiie shore of Lincoln's nond, was :in artifiical stone cave wMth ;uiti<inf 
■(•hairs, tahles, writing matei-ials etc. 

*The old stone jail in Lincoln Square, long since torn down. 

*l know such ones still living, hut the ineiJiory of the facts have long 
«incc passed from the public niind> 



25 



I could for one, stand all tlie racket. 

Of 23rison bars and a straight jacket, 

So that I walked with conscience clear 

But one day out of all the year. 

But yet you see I have not made 

Of reputation, stock in trade, 

And thus the only loss to me 

Would be my curtailed liberty. 

But I say this. Short termed Hell tires 

Deserved our harsh, relentless sires. 

Who dealt to decency a blow 

In nnirdering Tim Bigelow.* 

You doubt now if they were my sires. 
Two hundred j'-ears, and more, their iires 
Have blazed upon New England hearths: 
Two hundred years their curling smoke 
Has helped old Worcester's hills to cloak:* 

But not for that my honest wrath 

Shall hide in sentimental plight 
Where cold hearts have abused the right. 

I grant them hardy, brave and bold. 

And law abiding as could be, 

But those stern, pious hearts w-ere cold. 

As morning in an Arctic sea. 

^••Jn inurdevi)ig Tim Bigelow"— To our lasting sorrow be it said that 
nur fatliers allowed that strong, good iiian, and foremost patriot, to 
liic a piisoiier for debt, within the walls of that hateful dungeon which 
iinw would not be deemed fit for Al West's dog pen. 

^riic First peruuinent settler ot Quinsigamond Plantation was Jonas 
Hicc, w ho located upon Sagatabscot Hill, just south of Cronipton'8 res- 
iilciu'i-, and the second was a brother who drove his. stakes and pre- 
(Mni)T(il oil Paekachoag, a little in rear of the college of the Holy 



26 



Those rugged sons of Calvin's school 

Had yet to learn the golden rule, 

Not learned, until at sixty seven 

They struck hands with a foe forgiven. 

Much good had they, those grim old bears. 

With all their cranks, and all their airs; 

With them a word was lettered bond; 

If one by chance the ermine donned, 

His wife or sister might appeal 

To all the gods the myths reveal. 

He punished to the laws extent. 

And never discounted a cent. 

Outside the jail, with sword in hand. 

Cocked hat, like colonel in command, 

. Knee-breeches, spurs, and pom pom gay. 

See black skinned Peter Willard sway 

The corps that he alone can see. 

That phantom of the memory. 

•'Battalion wheel !" His harsh voice grates 

From Bellows' Tavern to the States. 

From Deland's to the Bradley Tavern, 

From Captain Joe's to Billy's cavern, 

From Hathaway"s to the Kings Arms, 

To the Cow Tavern, and so on 

To Munroe's, or the Rising Sun,* 

*Delaud's Tavern was at Webster Square; Bradley's at Salem Sqiiare, 
on Front Street; Capt. Joe Lovell's at Lincoln Square; Billy's.Cavern, 
Lincoln's Cave; Hatliaway's Tavern, at Washington Square; King's 
Anns, on Main Street, opposite Lincoln House; Cow Tavern, at the 
rork of roads beyond Highland Cadet School ; Munroe's was the Long 
Pond (lake) Tavern. The United States Hot(d was wher(> Walker's 
block now is. Cor. Mechanic and Main St. 



And, but so frequent such alarms. 
The habitants of neighboring farms 
Had guessed, instead of Peter's fun, 



Another Tory War begun. 



A ranting, roaring nuisance he 

To store keeper's fraternity,* 

As bidding ghosts their armor stack 

He swore he would the village sack. 

Except the merchant man would come 

And treat his infantry to rum. 

Poor Peter, often with a dash, 

The host would treat him to a lash. 

When Peter's lungs would howl. '-Retreat" I 

While waving squadrons up the street. 

'•Retreat ! Retreat ! the enemy 
Are close upon you — Don't you see ? "* 

With tottering step, in stockings black. 

And that white cue a down his back. 

I see the Doctor in a rage* 

At witty Weston's miswrit page, 

Where were the ten commandments writ in, 

Without a single not to fit in. 

The Doctor gave the oi-der so. 

And what could honest Weston do ? 



'"Peter ^Villard -was aii eccentric negro who had served in the Kevo 
lution. He was much about Washington's camp at Cambridge. 1 have 
lieard that liis portrait was, perhaps still is in the Trumbull family. 

*I have rendered the legend concerning him essentially as I reeeived 
it many years ago, Whether he acted under a hallucination, or from 
pure deviltrv, I did not learn. 

*Rev. Dr. Bancroft. 



28 



Who that has heard has yet forgot 

How Weston the gilt tablets wrote ? 

The same that those west panels fill 

Withm the church on Court House hill— 

Twas, "Thou shalt steal. " without a not. 

And in that wise through all the page. 

What wonder at the Doctor's rage f 

How Weston did the Doctor quote 

When repremanded for the sin. 

"Did you not tell me Doctor, pray. 

To be quite sure no knot was in 

The tablets ? Did I not obey ?"' 



Another figure dressed in tights. 

With gold shoe buckles big as palms. 

One of old Worcester's merchant lights. 

On whom was drawn displeased attention 

Down at the old Hartford convention. 

Twas Daniel, taking in the air 

On his grand corinthian stair, 

Northward from the old Kino-'s Arms. 



Another vision ct)mes to light 

And looms on retrospective sight. 

Twas many, many years ago, 

Word came ''the minute men must go 

To Boston town, '" upon occasion 

"^kMien England threat(nied an invasion. 

And Wiswall's troo[). a little guard 



Of forty yaliant men in Ward.* 
Were summoned to the training grounds 
" AYitli muskets clean, and forty rounds. "" 

In eighteen twelve, to be a Cap'n 

Was next the best thing that could happen. 

To be a Major, or a Colonel 

AVas stepping stone to fame eternal. 

But Wiswall was a Captain bold. 

As evidenced by legend old 

That runs this wise. His men were dressed 

In line, and uniform the l)est, 

And Wiswall with his good right arm. 

That for the broadsword left the farm. 

Brought to salute, addressed his men 

With admonition there and then. 

I only here his language give. 

*Tf one among you had not now 

A sight rather die than live. 

Let him go home and tend his plough." 

I hear a Kanuck's step afar.* 

I see him shooting like a star. 

As swings a swallow from the hill. 

Or like the Lurried flight of time. 

The little Doctor in his gig.* 

Its precious load it would not spill 

Although the sulky danced a jig. 

Or summersaulted, like this rhyme. 

*= VV a rcl . 1 u) \v A ub u iii . 

-^"I hfrui- a Kanuck's step atar"— The small Kanuck or 1 anadian 
xn-sit, was at that time much used tor driving purposes. Tlie Frenoli- 
nan pronounced tlie word with equally empliasized syllables. 

■Dr. Jolin (ireen until past seventy, always drove fleet Kanuck.s. 



30 



But smiling, nodding, ever flying,* 
Eode he to the sick and dying. 

Over stump and over stone, 

Over turnpike road, or none,* 

Be the weather foul or fine. 

Let it rain or let it shine, 

Mud and darkness, all the same; 

Through the poor mans cottage gate. 

Through the portals of the great, 

Not for wealth, and not for fame, 

Nodding still the Doctor came. 

To the Pest House under ban,* 

Rode the little brave old man. 

Cheered the father in his fears. 

Soothed the mother in her tears. 

Bravo ! Bravo ! little man. 

Rock the sulky hard as can, 

Destiny has made its will: 

That precious load it cannot spill, 

I have stood on battle field 



*"Smiling, nodding," The Doctor was ext'V smiling, and toit'vcr 
nodding. Such supreme good luimor was ready to recognise a neigh- 
bor's boy, a stranger, or even his dog. 

*Turnpilie roads— AH but the crossroads were turnpiked. 

*"The pest house"— Somewhere about 1?34 Worcester was a isited by 
that terrible plague Small Pox, then less under management than to- 
day, and a hospital was established at "tlie farm," (see the little 
bvick building there) where all the patients went to die, unless Dr. 
John Green, (iod blesshismembry! could save them. The little Doe- 
tor's life wa'^ a sublime epic written upon the tablet ot a t-onnty"s 
heart. 



HI 



Where the only foe revealed. 

Were the yellow skin and eye, 

Pulsation's intensity. 

Freezing chilL and burning heat. 

Groans that lips dare not repeat. 

Glazing eye, suspended breath, 

The rattle in the throat of death. 

Wliere in trenches day and night, 

Scores were gathered from the fight. 



I have seen to lead the van, 

Armed with pellet, bowl and can. 

Men vrith stead}^ step and nerve. 

Purposes that never swerve. 

Men who dared the dii-e duress 

With faces cold and passionless. 

Where the viewless wing of Death 

Fanned them with its clammy breath. 



Gallant he whose pluck and pride 

Brave the murderous bullet's tide. 

Battling for the wrong or right 

In his home or country's fight; 

Gallant who by land or sea 

Battles with adversity. 

Not less bold and not less brave 

He who stems the unseen wave 

Where contagion's poison breath 

Loads the feted air with death. 



32 



Dreamily I swoop along 

Througli the quiet air of song. 

As the prairie swallow swerves,* 

Deftly weaving aerial curves. 

With my slant wings keeping time 

To the tree toads reedy rhyme: 

Stooping here to snatch a iiy, 

As the wanderer hurries by; 

Pouncing on the beetle's wing; 

Peering where the crickets sing: 

Catching up from memory's glass 

Fleeting phantoms as they pass. 

That -'Old Green Store," must take its place 

When one would Worcester's record trace. 

That Old Green .Store, its chief repute 

Was weaving of a pauper's suit. 

Through Worcester's scribes I read its lore: 

••"Twas first a mill and then a store," 

But changing phases in a trice 

It fell to vending cany juice: 

The cany juice had passed a still. 

An ancient Medford "sperit" mill. 

It changed and changed, but ever back 

It fell into the tippling track. 

With all the changing, all the fuss, 

*Tlio in'airi(> sw«,llow,— a Inrd I have never seen decribed, nor 
lieard spoken of by that or any other name, and have never seen ex- 
cept on the prairies. For hours I have seen a single specimen sail 
over mv plough team, describing the nn)st graceful curves, never 

seeming to move a wing, although constantly changing position, and 
tlying at a altitude of not more than twenty feet. His was the very 

]>oetry oiniotion, moving so slowly, so gracelully. IS'otlnug 1 iiave 
ever seen in nature in any degree compares with it. 



33 



Each time the black winged incubus 

Would light within the Old Green Store 

And bleed its patrons more and more. 

I do not thank j^ou scribes — Adieu ! 

I know its record more than you. 



Oh ! brave old da;^'s. No halcyon d'Aja. 

When horses raced the main highways: 

When Green Street was a Derby turned;* 

When Grimes the wig crowned judges spurned. 

As plunging through the ojDen door 

His mare's heels rattled on the floor.* 

And, deeming Grimes in dolesome plight, 

They pardoned the wdld trickster knight. 



No '-taffy" in the sort of men 

Who filled the county court house then: 

They sent a man to jail for debt: 

A Lunar to a box to sweat; 

For traA^eling on a Sabbath day 

The Godless man a fine must pay; 

To doubt Divinity of Christ 

Was guarantee to get a hoist 

From all society of men. 



*\Alien Green Street was a Derby termed.— Trotting in the okien 
time was little cared tor, but running races were of Irequent occur- 
' nee on Green Street, which gave a level track for quarter horses. 

*When Grimes the wig crowned judges spurned,— The >Jtory of 
(.rimes' Court House feat was current in n^y boyhood. 



34 



With grim old stuff those courts were iilled: 

By their decrees much men were killed: 

Some by confinement for a debt: 

With shame, some, in the pilory set; 

On Lunar Hill, Jack Frost was hung;* 

Upon the Turnpike Carter swung;* 

By Jo Bill Road, Shay's troops were landed. 

And in a trice for treason branded: 

On Court Hill, but a little sooner. 

Swung wicked, handsome, Mrs Spooner. 

How strangely times our tempers turu; 

How easy quirks and shifts we learn 

When cmce the simple truth is bent. 

To serve a personal intent. 

But now before the statute laws, 

I saw men ventilate a cause 

That stood as 'gainst 



Some scathful lane'uag'e bred the row. 



I care not more for one than t'other; 

No private feud my brains shall bother, 

But this I marked, instead of law. 

Each counsel strove to find a Haw - 

And used his sharp forensic skill. 

His sarcasm and wit to spill. 
Until to us "green uns" beholding. 
The case seemed Butler versus Groulding. 



*On Luna Hill etc.,— Frost was hung on the hiU where stanvls tlic old 
Limatic asylum, and until that structure was reared it was known as 
Frost I Jill. 

*()n Belmont Street, the old Turnpike, just where thi- school 
l)ousi' staiids. Carter was executed. 



35 



At cart"s tail, tree and liitcliiDg post. 
Was many a thief's ear lopped and lost. 

By improYisement of a conrt 

That deemed the process none too short. 

What wonder, men Avhose boyish days 

AYere passed in watchful, warlike \vays. 

Who in the church, of Zion snng. 
With muskets at their shoulders swung. 
"Who held that Indians were but cattle. 
Sliould ignore courts and lawyer's pi'attle 



What wonder men should scowl on schisn; 

Who fed their faith on catechism? 

Who fancied that ])y inner light, 

Through faith they might discern the right: 

Who through believing might expect 

Their names were numbered ''the elect:"' 

That they in self comn] ending ease 

Should spurn the faithless Saducees.? 

I love the man who lores his Christ: 
I question no man of his creed:* 

I love the honest atheist. 

Belief like life is born of seed. 

And from the germ the like must grow 

Sure as the clovers leaf and blow. 

A truce to this long war of sight. 

Where all is shadowy as nio-ht. 



*I stvonglj^ mistrust siiicr re-reading- this, that this line heloi 
Emerson, l)ut I fail to find it and therefore let it star.*'. 



m 



Of all the names abliored of men. 

That brilliant master of the pen, 

That prince of logic's worse than treason. 

— For blasphemy in ''Age of Reason" — 

Drew ban of churchmen and divine 

From Bum skit to Rhode Island line. 

But further not for of that feather 

Was rated Rhody alto^-ether. 

Oh ! wicked Rhody. what a wall 

Was overturned by that canal: 

Our farmers thought, in sooth to tell, 

Rhode Island bordered upon Hell. 

But when that sluice was opened through 

The Yanks obtained a fairer view. 

And after cautious glimpses stealing 

With "What Cheer" folk thev f ell to dealing 



I wonder if the tables turned 

As by her nostrils Rhod}^ learned 

That down the Blackstone came a smell 

Worse than of Tartarus or Hell. 

A quiet sea that has no tide; 

Of yore the baby state supplied 

All but -the pious caid sedate 

That ever poured upon our state. 

With nimble feet and canny hearts 

They taught us all the wicked i-.rts. 

Be good now Rhody, drop your lidd]e. 

And help us solve our standing riddle.* 

*Wegcra-ceaster'i5 ricldle. The sewer problem. 



37 



Time levels all tilings aud to nie 

It bids adieu to rhapsody. 

But e'er I qneucli tlie flick rin^- ligbt 

That led me back through ancient night. 

I swing it forward, fain to see 

The footprints of our destiny. 

But neath Columbia's noonday skies 

The countless millions blear my eyes. 



Swing round again. Ohl Dial Time. 

And let your pointing lingers climb 

And count me up the scores again: 

But numl^er me but only ten. 

I see a lucid drop in air. 

A brilliant sparkling in the Sun. 

It grows a bubble, bright and fair. . 

More splendid till its race is run. 

Its dazzling sphere I see expand. 

Resplendent with prismatic hues: 

I hear the voice of Fate command: 

It breaks, and mingles with the dews. 

Columbia ends in but a name. 

Though lovely in her margin prime. 

Though glorious in her strength and fame: 

All perish, and she bides her time. 



So much have history's lessons taught: 

So much it costs us to be wise: 

With blood and pains our good is bought: 

By sloth and sin we loose the prize. 



as 



oil! that 8ome token might endure 
Of one great nation sternly jnst, 
One race to put with purpose sure, 
In righteousness a living trust. 



VALEDICTOEY 

My tender Muse to thee alas 

I now must drink my parting glass; 

Must bury in its depths profound 

My broken l^^re's creaking sound. 

Adieu! Adieu! My gentle Muse. — 

My sorrowing eyes with tears suffuse 

And all my cureless sadness tell 

While bidding jon a fond farewell. 

And you Parnassus' frisky steed. 

Who helped me least when most my need. 

How oft with rhythmic* buck and bolt 

I tumbled from thy back, ni}^ colt: 

As oft, with angry stirrup vault 

I lashed thy withers for the fault: 

But now I drink the parting cup. 

And throw my sponge disi^airing up. 

Of you if men one thought retain. 

Your antics were not all in vain. 

Ye End. 

"He knew his rosaiy full well 
And all his blessod beads could tell.'" 

I was troubled with the suspicion that these lines occur in Maruiiou, 
near the mention of the nuns of St. Cuthbert's Isle, but I tin not find it 
there and therefore decline to sacrifice the expression. 

Wegara-ceaster, the War Castle, was the Saxon oviginal of tlKiuuue 
Worcester. 



I IBRARY OF CONGRESS t=i 

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